


Water

by CastielsCarma



Series: Kinktober 2020 [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bratty Dean Winchester, Face Slapping, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Master Castiel (Supernatural), Master/Slave, Over the Knee, Slave Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Dean gets home from work and the feeling of... something being amiss persists. Cas is just being Cas and Dean, well, he pushes one too many buttons.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Kinktober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949407
Comments: 3
Kudos: 61





	Water

**Author's Note:**

> This is my prompt for day 17 of Kinktober: **Master/slave** , three (or more) some, or titfucking.
> 
> I hope you like. Mind the tags.
> 
> Note: This is not a roadmap on how to do a Master/slave dynamic. Communication and honesty is the key and each dynamic will be different. Also, I don't claim to be an expert. ; )
> 
> I think the rating should be E but I might be wrong. Let me know if it needs to change.
> 
> Kudos and comments feed my soul.

Dean can't shake off the itch that has plagued him all day. He knows Cas has been busy with work, hell, he's been busy with work too. Maybe that's why he's basically crawling out of his skin and craving _something_.

He fidgets as he kneels at Cas' feet.

“Does this task bore you?” Cas' voice is soft, deceptively so.

Dean inhales sharply. Fuck, he's been spacing out. “No, Master.” And Cas is right; usually, it gives him great pleasure to sit by Cas' side, to feel his strong hands in his hair, petting soothingly, or just listen to Cas' fingers as they clitter-clatter against the keys of the laptop.

Dean tries to recenter himself. He tries to find comfort in the heavy leather collar around his neck. He has a subtle wristband that reminds him of his service to Cas while he's at work but the heaviness of his collar is a more direct reminder. He thinks about what all that means.

Cas' soft fingers in his hair turn cruel. He wrenches Dean's head back and narrows his eyes. That's all the warning Dean gets.

The backhand catches Dean right on the cheek and Dean cries out – not so much in pain as in shock. Cas' fingers catch his chin and he forces Dean to look at him. “What's rule number three, Dean?”

Dean swallows and blinks. A single tear runs down his cheek. “To speak with honesty.”

Cas' fingers dig in harder as Dean gasps. “That means no lies, especially not when I ask you a direct question? Understood?”

Dean tries to shake his head but Cas' grip is steel. “Yes, Master,” he answers with a whisper.

Cas just hums and looks at him until Dean averts his eyes. Lust wars with shame inside Dean, but he tries to hush down that voice inside him that begs him to challenge Cas then and there. That would be really stupid.

Dean sighs and repositions himself at Cas' feet.

Cas' hand never leaves his laptop again to stroke Dean's hair.

Dinner is one of Dean's favorite meals – well, to be honest, every meal has its perks – but there's something about dinner. Setting the table properly, nice glassware and a warm home-cooked meal, and the knowledge that the day is done, it just gives Dean fuzzy feelings.

That and kneeling down and sucking Cas' cock, or being fucked mercilessly until he screams or Cas just lavishing him with praise after he's done good. Food and fucking are essential for Dean's fuzzy feelings so right now he concentrates on making dinner because fucking seems to be off the table.

He rolls his shoulders back and tries to relax. He can practically feel the stare of Cas' like a needle in the middle of his back – pinpricks of awareness that unsettle him.

He grits his teeth and bastes the chicken again. He adds some fresh oregano leaves, squeezes a lemon wedge over it, and tosses an extra pinch of salt before he puts it back in the oven. The potatoes are boiling and the sauce simmers in a pot.

It's Friday and while Dean loves sweets Cas is more moderate but maybe he'd like to enjoy a treat.

He walks up to Cas who sits by his desk and kneels by his feet. He bends his neck and waits.

The chicken has twenty minutes left so enough time to make the cake batter. Then he can put the cake pan in the oven while refilling Cas' drink. That should leave enough time for them to eat up and enjoy a nice cake as dessert.

“Yes?” Cas' voice is cool but there's a tone of amusement underneath.

Dean has no fucking idea what's so funny. He smooths out his scowl and lifts up his gaze. “Would Master like some dessert after dinner?”

Cas looks at Dean as if he's a puzzle that needs to be solved. His blue eyes narrow as Cas' eyes burn a trail down his chest and further down, Dean's cock stirs. He tries not to squirm but that look; Dean knows that look. Cas wants to eat _him_ for dessert.

“No, I'm good for tonight.”

Dean opens his mouth only to snap it shut again, harder than necessary. He looks down again.

No dessert. It's technically not in his contract that he's allowed to eat sweets, let alone dessert, but each Friday it's been a tradition anyway. A habit for almost six months now and just like that Cas says no. Dean likes that Cas says no in general but right now he hates it. He wants dessert damn it.

“What's on your mind, pet?”

Dean's cheek tingles. He remembers the backhand from earlier but he balks at how his impulsive self wants to answer Cas. For once he tries to put a rein on his more bratty side. Although he's not sure Cas would call it bratty right then and there, just stubborn.

“I – was expecting dessert, Master...” He cringes. He sounds so needy and petulant. That's not a look Master approves of.

“Oh, expecting things are you?”

Heat floods Dean's cheeks and he stays silent.

Cas' voice cracks like a whip. “That was a question.”

“No, Master.”

Cas puts down his book. “Good. I was starting to think you were forgetting your place. Go finish dinner.”

“Yes, Master.” Dean rises up on his feet. The itch is still there, driving him mad but he goes.

The chicken is almost done so Dean drains the boiling water from the potatoes. He pours the sauce in a sauce snipe – the blue and white one that was his mother's – and he fills up a decanter with water.

Cas' voice calls again. “Dean, get me some water.”

Dean pours some water in a glass and pads on silent feet to Cas. He offers the glass to Cas with an outstretched hand.

Cas just looks at him, still with that searching probing gaze. “The glass is half full. You don't think your Master deserves to quench his thirst fully?”

Dean blinks. Such a fucking rookie mistake. “Of course I do, Master. Sorry.”

Cas takes the glass from Dean.

There's a potted houseplant next to the table – and without breaking eye contact with Dean – Cas pours the water in the dry soil.

Dean's heart pounds in his chest and he's on the verge of crossing his arms. Instead, he exhales softly and lets his arms rest by his side.

Cas thrusts the glass into Dean's hands again. “Do you think you can follow a simple order and get me a glass of water?” He speaks calmly and even smiles at Dean.

Dean's hackles rise and for the umpteenth time that evening, he grinds his teeth in irritation. “Yes, Master.”

Dean strides to the kitchen and he does _not_ tread heavier than he has too.

There have been times in Dean Winchester's life where he's done things, almost instinctively, without thought.

This is _not_ one of those times.

Dean fills up Cas' glass and nods to himself. Time to face Cas.

“Here you go, Master.”

Cas takes the glass from Dean and arches an eyebrow. There's a gleam there which causes a stir of emotion to roll through Dean.

“It's a glass of ice.” Cas' voice is colder than said ice.

Dean's reply is instant. “You never specified which state you wanted the water in. To the best of my knowledge, ice is still water. Only frozen. Master.”

“'To the best of your knowledge.'”Cas gets up calmly and puts the glass down on the desk. “I see.” He's silent as he walks around the desk to come face to face with Dean.

His hand lashes out like a viper and Dean yelps as Cas' grabs his hair and pulls his head back. His grip is so tight that Dean has to stand on his toes to relieve some of the pain. “I see I've been way too lenient with you lately.” Cas wraps his hand around Dean's throat. “Someone has forgotten their place.”

“Sorry – “

Cas' words are coated in steel.“If you speak another word, I'll bring out the wand.”

Dean's eyes go huge and he clamps his mouth shut.

Cas drags him to the bedroom. “How long until dinner is done?”

The question catches Dean off guard. He's been thoroughly busy trying to save his hide but he knows it's futile. A thrill of excitement runs through him at that thought, and how fucked up is that?

“Um... fifteen minutes, Master?”

“That will do,” Cas grits out. “Strip. Pants and underwear. Now.”

Dean hurries to obey and places the folded underwear and pants on the floor in a neat square just as Cas wants it.

Cas grabs the glass and sits down on the bed. He pats on his knees. “For every _second_ you delay, I'll add another slap.”

Dean practically falls into Cas' lap.

“I don't care if you kick or scream or cry or if there's spit flying all over, If I catch you leaving my knee, we're starting all over again. Do you understand?”

Dean's heart pounds quickly in his chest, and his breath quickens. He's trying to process what's happening but Cas' voice leaves no room for hesitation. “Yes, Master.” It's barely a whisper.

He jumps as cold assaults his ass.

Cas presses him down on the bed with a firm hand on his shoulder blades. “Do not fucking move.”

Dean exhales and relaxes in Cas' lap.

Another sharp, cold bite on his ass, then another one. Soon a cold trickle runs down his cheeks and seeping down into his crack. Ice cubes.

Dean lays there confused and tries to stave-off all the imaginary scenarios of what will happen next, that goes through his mind.

His ass is wet and the cold has spread all over his cheeks and down his thighs. It's so cold that it hurts but Dean is sure that Cas is out of ice. He has to be.

A hand lands on his ass with a sharp crack and Dean exhales sharply. Another one hit the same spot and Dean shouts out in surprise as fire consumes him. Again and again, that cursed hand aims true.

Cas has spanked him before, both in pleasure and as a means of punishment, but this is something new altogether. Dean barely has time to inhale before Cas' hand lands on his cold ass again. The pain spreads through his cheeks like wildfire and it's never-ending.

Tears blur his vision and Dean kicks with his legs but all that does it make the smacks rain down harder. Dean stills as huge sobs wreck his body.

The blows have stopped and Dean lets out a whimper as Cas strokes his back. “I'm so sorry, Master. I just missed you, missed _you,_ your guidance, your _control._ I needed to know –“ The full horror of failing Cas hits Dean and he starts crying again.

Cas rubs his back in soothing circles. “Shh, it's over now. You did so well for me. So good.” He rubs a soothing lotion on Dean's ass.

He hisses but welcomes the cold as it calms the burning skin. Cas is so gentle now and rubs over his bruised ass. He kisses Dean's body wherever he can reach it, soft and comforting. It feels so good. “Th– thank you, Master. I'm really sorry that I pu – “

“Dean. You're forgiven. Put your clothes on and then we eat dinner.”

Dean gets up slowly and puts on his clothes. The tight fabric of his underwear chafes uncomfortably but Dean sighs. It's a reminder of his Master, of rules and structure and of Dean's place in it.

At dinner, Cas praises Dean about the food, takes two helpings of potatoes and they talk about their day and their plans for the weekend.

Every small movement is agony on his ass, yet he has to shift to alleviate the dull ache that's still there.

Dean notices Cas watching him, a smile on his lips. “Your suffering is beautiful.”

Dean nods. He agrees. And above all, it's a much-needed reminder that Cas is there, that he's not giving Dean an inch and that he loves him. “Thank you, Master. More chicken?”


End file.
